


Returning a Favor

by nicedracula



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Ghoul Courier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicedracula/pseuds/nicedracula
Summary: Scrap needs ED-E repaired and Raul doesn't mind at least trying.
Relationships: Courier & Raul Tejada
Kudos: 9





	Returning a Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Realized I had a whole bunch of little wips saved that I could try to finish up, and so I'm doing that. It's mostly self-indulgent stuff, all pretty unexciting and just me trying to get back in the habit of enjoying writing again. I'm aware that I'm not very good at it, but I'd like for that to change, so why not post some of it? Also, I wanted to write something for my courier, even if it's small and uneventful.

The sky began to stain pink when the two ghouls departed off the asphalt road, the sun finally shrinking and calming behind dark, jagged edges of distant cliffs. The earth rose beneath them as they traveled up the gentle slopes, desert grit crunching under the soles of their boots, lifting plumes of crimson dust from the ground, powdering the shins of their legs in a thin layer of earthen red. It would not be long before Raul reached his home.

It had been a long and sore absence since he had last been there, and he hoped that its location, withdrawn and set aside, would leave it untouched, but he did not cling to that hope too dearly.

Scrap wobbled a few paces behind Raul, her weight thrown off by the hump of a large bag on her bag, the fabric of it pulled taut by its contents. 

In spite of her small and unseeming nature , she was the reason he was returning home in the first place. He tried to imagine her, toe-to-toe with his goliath captors, and could not picture an outcome in her favor. And yet here she was, with barely a scratch, her only loss contained entirely within the pack bound to her back, her snail's shell.

She could not have been a ghoul for long, for she still had thin, brittle clumps of hair. On the rare occasion that she removed her wide-brimmed hat, Raul could see she was balding, the top of her scalp blistering and peeling as his once did. Soon enough, the rest would fall out, too.

They did not have to walk for much longer before the rising silhouette of a Corvega's rusted skeleton marked his arrival home. The dark shape of his shack leaned against a low cliffside, unlabeled and unremarkable, taking refuge under the shade the cliff offered. Cream blossoms of coyote tobacco and banana yucca gathered outside in clumps, a haphazard garden, sown and tended to by nature alone. The shack did not appear inviting, but after hours of traveling under the swollen, blistering sun, Raul could think of no better welcome than the shadow of its shambling eaves. From Scrap's wheezing breaths, her cratered skin glistening with sweat, he imagined she felt more or less the same.

Raul apologized for the mess as he tugged the door open, felt the resistance of its rusted hinges. He stepped aside to let her in, and Scrap slung her pack to the floor with a heavy thud, rattling the shack's delicate frame. She pressed her palms against the pack and stooped over, gulping for air before her breath eventually steadied.

"Is here alright?" she asked. 

"Oh, sure, right in the middle of the room is fine." She shot him a look. "We can move it later."

They rested against the car outside his shack, watching the last glowing sliver of sun disappear behind New Vegas. Scrap offered Raul a Nuka-Cola, which he accepted with a nod. Bit by bit, the city became aglow, until it was a cluster of distant, twinkling lights.

He savored the syrupy taste of Nuka-Cola thick with sugar. In the farthest reaches of his mind, he swore he could still recall when sodas were still served cold and carbonated and crisp, opening with a sharp hiss rather than a defeated sigh. Those memories seemed to become more and more distant, as he seemed to mind their flavor less and less.

"So, where are you off to after this?" Raul asked.

Scrap grinned, crooked and toothy, and lifted a finger to the cluster of lights. "Headed straight for the Strip."

"Well, color me surprised. I never took you for the gambling type."

She shook her head. "No, not gambling."

"Not much else to be done there."

"Just got an old pal I'm meeting up with."

Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously, as if she knew something he did not. He was curious, but pried no more. She looked down and fidgeted with the Pipboy on her arm until the fizzy crackle of its radio played.

"Where'd you pick up that old thing, anyways?" he asked

"It was a gift." At his unconvinced expression, she elaborated. "I didn't take it off some vault dweller, if that's what you're asking."

"You just don't see too many of those. I'm having trouble imagining someone willingly parting with it."

"Well, it's the truth. Not much more to it." She looked down again, scuffed the dirt with her boot heel. She looked up again, and began to undo the latch attacking the device to her arm. "You wanna take a look at it or something?"

"Why, you want me to fix that for you, too?"

She paused and reattached the clasps on her arm. "No, just thought you'd like to see it. You seem to know your way around mechanics and stuff."

"A Pipboy is a long jump from a toaster."

"But not an eyebot."

"Not as much as you might think. But there's no guarantee that I'm going to get anywhere with it."

"Well, I appreciate you trying."

"Seems like a fair enough trade to me."

She fidgeted with the label of her bottle, pensive, as if on the verge of another question but holding back. She looked up in time to watch the distant city be swallowed by the night, the ring of the top floor of the Lucky 38 glowing above the Strip like a halo.

Once the morning coolness had melted away by the rising sun, the air grew warm and thick inside that shack, where Raul toiled away at resuscitating the old eyebot. He had not worked on one before, never being given the need to. Scrap watched for a while, her big insect eyes wide and observant, her chin perched in her hands as she lay on her stomach on the other side of the shack. Eventually, she realized that his task would take more time than she expected, and she eventually retired to busying herself with other mindless tasks.

It took only a few dedicated hours for Raul to finish his work. The eyebot hummed and sputtered to life below his leathery palms before lifting into the air abruptly, only to hover gently from the ground at eye level. 

Scrap sprang up from where she had been dozing and looked at it, asked it various questions and smiled at each beep it responded with. She turned to Raul, still grinning.

"Consider the favor repaid."

Raul showed her out of the shack, eyebot trailing behind them. Her pack looked strangely deflated without the metal husk in it.

"If you ever need him fixed up again, you can stop by," Raul said. "Don't come back _too_ soon, though. I'm not exactly an expert on eyebot schematics."

"More than I'll ever be. You'll be sticking around here, then?" she asked.

"Unless any other supermutants have plans to kidnap me and make me fix more toasters, then I should be around."

She smiled and tipped the brim of her hat. "Much appreciated."

He wished her a safe trip and watched her walk down the slopes toward the Strip, eyebot in tow, the crackling of her Pipboy radio slowly fading with her.


End file.
